Fanfic:Journey of the Warriors/Chapter 1 - New Beginnings
I blinked hard as I awoke from my deep night's sleep. The oceanic sun was shining down hard into the floor of my tenement, cascading light across my bed and providing me with visibility. The light contrasted sharply with the dark, dusty corners of the room, where the mice slept and cold crept in the winter. Yawning, I raised myself to a sitting position to examine my settings. It was quite humid, and I could feel a steady, cool breeze blowing around my humble home. Home... but not for long. For today was the day that I had long awaited: the day I would finally depart for Temul Prison Fortress. Temul Prison Fortress was, admittedly, romanticized as a high-paying, high-reward occupation by Guild headmasters. The reason for this is simple: given that Temul was for only those hunters who committed atrocities against the Guild itself, the Guild Headmasters thought it quite important to ascertain the quality of the security within the prison. To this end, they (somewhat dishonestly, in hindsight) actively claimed that the high-paying job was as safe as they come, with free meals and housing included in the employment contract. This was only partially true. The Prison was very vulnerable to attacks from all variety of Leviathan. When the waters around the prison froze and snow began to fall on the tin roofs of the complex, Barioth and Ivory Lagiacrus would besiege the island. In the spring, during mating season for Rathalos and Rathian, several dangerous nests would claim the lives of a few unlucky prisoners. Although, despite these discrepancies, the Prison did keep its word on three things: high pay, free meals, and free housing. However, I did not have this information at the time. I was, quite truly, merely excited to be going to a well-paying job. Nevermind any supposed moral objections or possible shortcomings of the place. Three weeks ago, I had signed up to go on the first ship out and work there for 6 months. Three weeks later, here I was, slowly bringing myself to waking mind. I blinked hard, yawned, and stood up. Without further hesitation, I began making a basic breakfast. A Qurupeco egg, some Bullfango bacon, Tanzia chips, and finally, a Loc-Lac biscuit. At length, I yawned again. Then I saw the time. My eyes tripled in size as I realized that I was only five minutes away from departure! Without further ado, I drunk down the last bit of my wine and grabbed my weapon, satchel, and packed bag. I ran out the door, locking it and placing the "STAY OUT" sign on the window, and began to dash towards the harbor. Of course, the Hunter's Quartering was located on the complete other side of Tanzia Port City; naturally, this was to lower the stress of the hunters and let them sleep easier without the noise of the harbor, but this also demanded quick transportation to and from the Harbor and Tavern. After what seemed like three lunar years of running, I finally stumbled into the harbor, twenty feet from the Tenor, the ship that ferried workers (and sometimes prisoners) to the Temul Prison complex. The mighty ship was pulling away from the side of the harbor as I arrived. "Wait!! Wait! For heaven's sake, wait!" I yelled, waving my weapon. The ship, which was drawing its anchor, stopped and lowered the anchor. "Come aboard, lad! You're late! Very late, and the hundred-odd prisoners we have down below are reeking!" The ship's captain (and lieutenant of the prison guards) shouted to me. I again ran, going to the side of the harbor and lunging onto the side. A rope bridge had been cast over the side; I was able to grab it and pull myself away from the water with my weapon, satchel, and bag. Finally, I crawled aboard the ship and sat down. I was panting heavily, and I was weary. On the stern of the ship, the captain's quarters and kitchens were stored. I crawled over to it and leaned against it. To let them know they could finally depart, I waved my weapon again. "It's too early to be running this much," I grumbled under my breath. The captain, who was snacking on a biscuit, heard me. "I'm too young to feel this damned old, so I guess we're in the same boat--literally, of course, but I'm sure you know what I mean," the man said. "A sense of humor? How unexpected of you! Nice to see, though," I replied, looking up at him with mildly surprised eyes. "Don't get used to it," He said, "I'm just glad to be on the ocean again. She's always good to us, lad." ---- Though I had not mentioned it to Gregory, the captain of the Tenor, this was only my third time on a real boat. Unlike so many hunters, I had never been to the Deserted Island, nor was I from the area. I had grown up in the Tannge Mountains, the mountains which descend in a vertical column to Tanzia Port city. I was used to lofty rides upon Urduken, a tame variety of Urruduk, and Rathalos, ones we had tamed and loved as children. Not boats. Boats were very new to me. That being said, I was surprised to learn that I loved the sea. I never even so much as approached seasickness, and the ride was very interesting. No major monster attacks occurred on the way. Interestingly enough, the weather remained civil all the way through the ship, with the worst condition present being a light rainfall that occurred and departed very shortly after we had left the port. As night began to fall on the first day of the trip, I began to venture through the ship towards the passenger cabins. The ship was huge. The further I walked through the massive ship, the more I began to wonder if it ever ended. At length, however, I reached the foyer of the passenger cabins. I was now in the bow of the ship. I could gradually feel its soft rocking and the gentle sound of the flow of water on the side of the ship. It was very comfortably cool, but not cold, in the lower decks. I smiled and went on. Around me, a few men sat around discussing the day and shooting the metaphorical sea breeze. I tipped my uniform hat to them. "Pray, are you good men aware of where my cabin may be located?" I politely asked. One of them, who was also journeying to a job at the prison, spoke up. "Yes, certainly. I've been on this boat before. Column 1 or Column 2?" He asked. I stared confusedly at him. I didn't reveal how truly confused I was, however. Hesitating, I blinked hard and suddenly spoke up: "Uhm, yes! Of course! That! Let me see, my good sir, yes." I hurriedly said as I reached towards my neck, clawing at the identification tag I had received. The card contained my name, my hunter status, my hunter's ID, my Guild ID, every single identification number you could imagine could be on a card. And finally, I found it: "Ship Housing | C1.N11.A" I smiled awkwardly and spoke again, as I showed him my card. "This is it, the number's C- dot N-eleven and, uh, A," I said, sighing with a feeling of eased tension. The man laughed. I was slightly irked, but made no quarrel. "Come on, then, you're in Column 1, section 11, room A. That's simple enough. This will always be your room on the ship," He said, picking up a lamp and proceeding forward, "Now, of course, the room is used by other when you're not on--economics, sir, you know--but when you have a scheduled ride, this will always be available to you. Here we are, section 11." The man said happily. We turned into a dark hall and the man flipped a lever on the side. Suddenly, with a Thunderbug's signature bursting sound, six torches ignited and lit the hall. The man then walked over to where a bold "A" was scratched into the side of a door. "Yes, here. This is room A. Inside, I should expect you will find a lantern like this one, a good bed, blankets, a Ydaran, and a Legend of the Ancient Strife. Should keep you occupied well. Be prepared to wake up early come morning. Breakfast is staged at dawn; the rest, you'll figure out if you stay on any longer than a day," The man said, turning towards me and nodding. "Thank you. I do not believe I know your name?" I said. "It's Levon. I've been working as an outer guard for about a year now; before that, I was on the Inside. You should start out training in the Inside, but given your resume--I took a gander at the thing, apologies--you will be quickly transferred out-of-doors," He replied gladly. He nodded again. "Well, if that's all, I'm off," He finished, departing. A coal oil lamp sat on a nearby table in my cabin. Taking it, I observed my surroundings. The dark, thick wood of the surrounding walls contrasted starkly with the white bedsheets and blankets placed on the bed. The scent of freshly-cut foresting was thick in the air. On the far wall, above the bed, sat The Hunt, a picturesque image of three hunters with their dogs and guns leaping with joy for the field. Opposite the painting was another, lesser known work, known as simply Atlas; it was an accurate and artistic articulation of the land of Moga and surrounding territories. I yawned and took my armor and equipment off, hanging it on designated pegs. I took the coal oil lantern from its place and stretched. Then, I leaned down towards the drawers of the bedside table and examined their contents. Just as Levon had said, I found a Ydaran and a copy of Legend of the Ancient Strife. I tiredly picked up the Ydaran. Finally, I placed the lantern on the table once again and began to read, half-laying, half-sitting on my bed. Although I had read the thing at least twice, I once again read over the legend of the Wyveria and their creation of the world. I remembered that, as a small child, I had always been eager to read and learn more about the all-powerful Wyveria. Smiling, I closed the book and put it back. For a good long while, I sat in silence, nostalgic and foreboding. Eventually, my mind drifted to the future. The future was bright. Then, my mind hesitated at the present. I yawned and sighed, remembering that this truly was a new beginning. All kinds of ill fates swam through my mind, but gradually I closed my eyes and felt my strength. Whatever trials awaited me... my fateful past was over. Now, finally alone and very tired, I settled into the bed and was soon deep in sleep. ---- It had seemed like mere minutes had passed before I heard the belated crow of the ship's single cock. I yawned as I awoke, rubbing my neck and looking around. It seemed like it was still nighttime. However, I knew that this could only be caused by the absence of light in the lower decks. No breakfast, save a hard biscuit, would come today. Tomorrow would be the arrival at the prison. Prisoners, workers, and a replacement officers would load and unload the ship. The day's chores were relatively soft. The only requirement of the day was to finish stocking the larders at a waystop located between the Prison Fortress and the port. It was eternally supplied by traders and merchants and was a well-known trading port. Ideally, we would trade our stock of Machalite Ore for another week's worth of food (not solely for this trip; this ship was, after all, a very popular one). I looked forward to stopping by there; some said that, due to the trading that went on, some very, very unique items could be found in the various markets of Tremor Port. I now stood at the bow of the ship, looking forwards. In the far distance, clouds were gathering and in them I could see the reflections of torches, still lit from last night. "An hour or three away. That's not so bad," I thought silently. "Heh! Not so bad at all, I'd say," Came a familiar voice. My eyes doubled in size and I quickly turned my head to examine the source of the sound. It was Levon. "What? I simply mean that it's not so bad--being on the see, if you follow me," Levon said innocently. "Oh, alright. Apologies, you merely surprised me is all," I said apologetically. "Quite alright, young sir. Yes, the prison's only an hour away. Not very far at all, really," Levon mused. Our ship was gaining on the islet very quickly. In the north, a storm brewed, and from it blew strong winds as it moved southward. Admittedly, it was an appropriate setting for my mood--I was feeling quiet and reserved, watching the storm brew on one side of the ship and then leaning back and watching the islet approaching our ship. Another hour passed. Was it an hour? I am not actually sure. Two, maybe three hours were gone before the storm had overtaken us. To our luck, however, only 300 yards from us was the only kind slope on the place; the harbor sat there. That was my first look at Temul Prison. Temul Prison seemed to be more vast than its little island could contain. On the harbor, there were three piers extending towards the seas. Each pier was tied down by indescribably thick iron chains to both the island, the piercing rock walls, and presumably the sea. All of the docks and most of the surrounding sea was visibly covered with thick wire, presumably electrified where possible, and there were only three gates for the prison--the central, left, and right. I later found that the prisoners actually chose which dock they went into; it was conceived as a psychological preparation--the illusion of choice. No matter which way they went, the gate that let into the massive complex was singular, and it stood like an imposing god, looking towards the horizon, indomitable, indestructible, arbiter of all life in this place. Most prisoners concurred; the place looked like blatant, polished madness. Our ship was commanded to circle the complex. Our load, I later found (how little I was told in those days!), consisted of particularly vulgar, vile vermin, the likes of which were deemed to horrible to be given the choice of harbor or ignorance. They had to see; they had to know. It was then that I found how true the stories were. The island truly was circular, but not refined as such; each of its walls looked towards the sea, with no beach, no sand, no happy endings for any who jumped off those far windows onto the jagged spires below. It was surrounded by the results of long years' withering and many generations' worth of explosions and combat and strife; the sharp stones, which seemed to cut you from mere sight, seemed innumerable. I judged the buttresses of the walls and walks to be at least the height of our ship's mast, and the walls were little taller. Atop them walked ants -- no, they were people, but from our eyes looked as ants indeed -- carrying guns and blades too big to befit their stature. Every twenty steps, they would turn around, perhaps after a line was passed to his fellow ant. At each of these conjunctions, a primary ballista with two minor ballistae was mounted towards the sea; any trespasser, beast or man, would swiftly be corrected thus. The towers were magnificent and horrific: they stood taller than the walls, nearly but not twice as tall, and these were mounted with anti-dragon bomb launchers, in addition to field artillery. I would later learn their contents were just as grim. As I took all this in, we began to once again approach the harbor. The gate opened for us as the captain utilized the tug to re-position us for landing. As we sailed up, the gate shut behind us. An audible clack of the lock sounded throughout the facility. Our ship was to undergo repairs and Search; the water lock we were in--the only one of its kind--was sealing. After a series of audible grates and clangs, the water began to quickly drain out--presumably to the reservoir underneath the island. We were sitting on the ground. I was allowed to climb out and watch; however, I opted to take the time instead to familiarize myself with the prison. I headed through the minor gate, the iron-sealed door of six and four feet within the massive gate, towards the inner section. The gate I had accessed entered a tunnel, which went through a small cave and then descended into the staff housing. The prison complex was arranged for the maximum amount of security. In the middle, the staff housing, kitchen, infirmary, and Registration Center were situated. Outside of it stood the Arena and Exercise Yard. After, the Maximum Security section, where the worst criminals present had been damned to live their lives in infinite, ethereal twilight. Between Maximum Security and Minimum Security--minimum being the outermost layer--there was another exercise yard. As we passed under the arena and Levon told me various facts about the prison complex above, I began to question the practicality of an arena in a maximum security prison; did prisoners make good sport? Were they a sport? Just how strange was this prison...? I would later find out that the place had been a fortress at one time -- a bunker with many fortifications -- and before that, a port. Temul Prison was the island's latest use. It had been in service for over one hundred years. This was Temul Prison. I shuddered. Category:Fan Fiction